


An Elf by Any Other Name

by Umeko



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Humor, Mistaken Identity, Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2066274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umeko/pseuds/Umeko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three episodes where Rumil, Legolas and Galdor meet their namesakes in Aman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rumil

**Author's Note:**

> Noticed that although Prof Tolkien stated somewhere that the Elves do not name their elflings after their kin and hence no 2 elves should end up with the same name, there have been some instances of 2 elves bearing the same name (albeit hailing from different places). I have borrowed the characters from the Silmarillion and Lord of the Rings for this fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumil attends a banquet in honour of Artanis' return to Tirion and ends up with pie on his face.

“Master Rumil, the princess Artanis has returned to the city,” a nis who worked in the scriptorium announced. The ancient elf looked up from the scroll he had been studying. Few of the younger elves used the old Sarati alphabet now, which was a pity.

“Artanis? She’s back?” He recalled a pretty young nis with silver-gold hair. The daughter of Arafinwe was not a good student. She spent too much time daydreaming and took forever to master her letters, even the neater Tengwar script devised by his star pupil, her Uncle Feanaro. Then again, none of his students had come close to matching Curufinwe Feanaro. Even that script has changed during the Exiles’ time in Arda, influenced by the Sindar, Nandor and the races of beings that came after.

“Aye, loremaster. She rode into the city with her guard, to call upon her atar. There will be a banquet in her honour tomorrow… His Majesty has extended an invitation to you, that you may record the event for posterity.”

Rumil groaned silently. He never liked court banquets, but it was an honour to be invited to sit at the table. He could send one of the other loremasters in his stead, but he did not wish to disappoint King Arafinwe. Arafinwe was one of his better students, a quiet, thoughtful elfling, unlike his more rambunctious elder brother Nolofinwe.

* * *

 

Artanis had grown. She sat at the high table between her father and her favourite brother Findarato. No, they are Galadriel and Finrod now. They have taken on the names they were known by in the Hither Shores. Arafinwe had learnt the Sindarin tongue from his son, so as to better speak with the Sindarin lords who have made their homes in Aman. The Telerin dialect was still common in Alqualonde but it had steadily blended with the Sindarin tongue. Listening to the conversations in Quenya, Sindarin and other elven languages, the ancient loremaster marvelled at how much their speech had changed since the early days before they made the Great Journey.

 _Too much wine,_ Rumil excused himself from the table and made his way to the water closet, an invention by that star pupil of his after he decided language and lore was not as interesting as smith-work.  Having relieved his bladder, the old elf plodded back towards the banquet hall.

“Hey, Rumil! Stop hogging the pie, you greedy orc!” a youthful voice called out in Sindarin.

The old elf frowned with displeasure. _How dare someone call him an orc!_ And he had not touched the pie, lemon cream gave him gas.

“You had three slices already, Orophin! That’s not counting the pudding you stuffed yourself with…”

“Oh, cut that out! I’m sick of babysitting you two… no more wine or sweets…”

The voices were coming from the corridor outside the grand hall. Three blond elves clad in the green and grey raiment of Galadriel’s guards were having a squabble over their dessert. They were so alike in looks they could only be brothers.One ran in circles with the pie laughing while another chased him. The last simply stared at the high ceiling in helplessness. _Wood-elves,_ Rumil snorted. Galadriel must have brought them along with her when she sailed west. _Savage, uncultured…_

That was when the great loremaster was pelted in the face by a flying lemon meringue pie.

“Rumil! Look what you have done!”

“Orophin tripped me!”

“You started it!”

“Apologize, both of you, now!” Haldir commanded in the same voice he often used as marchwarden when dealing with wayward border guards. Both brothers snapped to attention and mumbled their apologies in halting Quenya. Rumil winced at the mangled vowels. Their grammar was nowhere near passable. He wiped the mess of cream off his face with a towel offered by a passing serving maid.

* * *

 

“Master Rumil, there you are!” Galadriel greeted her former tutor with a smile when he returned to the banquet. “Is that cream on your collar?” she asked curiously. Perhaps he had run afoul of her often boisterous guard.

“My Lady, may I humbly suggest compulsory Quenya lessons for your honour guard? Their accent is positively atrocious! And their grammar...” Her tutor was positively fuming. Galadriel lifted her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. _Some things never change._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picture Rumil of Tirion as a crotchety linguistics academic and having a bit of a hangup with proper Quenya verb use and pronunciation. He did teach Feanaro, before his star pupil rendered his alphabet outdated. I picture him teaching the royal Noldor children.


	2. Galdor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galdor oversees the preparations for a banquet and meets up with Lord Cirdan by chance.

Glorfindel  of the Golden Flower has returned to Aman from the Hither Lands with his liege Elrond. He has been given leave by his lord to visit his friend on Tol Eressea. This was the first time Galdor was hosting a feast for the Lords of Gondolin and with an almost complete set of Lords, minus Maeglin of the Mole of course, the little traitor. Even now Galdor did not know if he could find it in his heart to forgive the ellon. It was hard enough to forgive Salgant for leaving Glorfindel’s men to perish. The only reason King Turgon was attending this event in Tol Eressea was due to Princess Idril’s persuasion no doubt. The only time he attended a previous feast was when he was hosting it at his hall in his new city. Lords Elgamoth of the Heavenly Arch and Salgant of the Harp were still lingering in the Halls then. The princess would attend with her husband Tuor of the White Wing.

Elgamoth had been released since and settled on the mainland. He did promise to attend despite his known propensity for seasickness. Salgant expressed a desire to meet with Glorfindel and offer his sincere apologies for his actions during the fall and to seek his forgiveness as well as those of the other lords. Etchelion of the Fountain volunteered to provide the music, which meant he was bringing his best minstrels from the music school he had started.  Galdor wanted to make a good impression on his guests. Unfortunately, he soon realised his humble abode in Avallone was far too small to house his fellow lords, their families and servants. Thus he made arrangements with the _White Gull_ , the best inn in town to host the banquet.

The _White Gull_ was a respectable inn, catering to a better class of elf. The food provided was well-praised for its variety, freshness and taste. It even had large dining areas which could be booked in advance for private parties and it was one such room Galdor had reserved for the event. Galdor needed to check the preparations for the feast. Lords Duilin of the Swallow and Rog of the Hammer were very particular of their liquor. Duilin liked the strong wines from Dorwinion and Rog was fond of Dwarfish beer. Lord Penlod, his dear friend, had managed obtain some bottles of the rare vintage from a cousin’s cellar and two kegs of Dwarfish beer from the market and promised to leave them with the staff at the _White Gull_.

There was a new elf manning the counter, a sullen-looking ellon with a mop of dirty blond hair. The bosomy blond elleth he normally dealt with was nowhere in sight. The ellon was scowling as he flipped through his ledgers.

“I say, my friend, has Lord Penlod of the Tower of Snow been?” Galdor asked with a smile.

“Nay, sir. But Lord Penlod of the Pillar has been.” The ellon’s fingers continued dancing over the beads of his abacus as he checked the sums.

“Ah, one and the same. Did he leave anything with you?” Galdor’s grin grew strained. The ellon had a bit of a dour wit about him. Surely any elf worth his keep would know of the Twelve Houses of Gondolin?

“Aye, two kegs of inferior ale and some bottles of poor wine. In my honest opinion, sir, nothing like miruvor or the like for a banquet, and I assure you the house does keep a fine selection…”

“Each to his own, my man. I fear some of my guests prefer Dwarf-beer to miruvor…”

“Mayhaps your guests include Dwarves? I recall a time when Lord Elrond of Imladris had to host a party of Dwarves… greedy little buggers near ate him out of house and home. The hobbits were worse though. Perhaps you might wish to triple the quantity of food for the banquet?”

“No, my guests do not include Dwarves,” Galdor grated. The ancient rivalry between Elf-kind and Dwarves was still strong despite the friendship formed after the Second Age in the Hither Lands. As a First Age lord, Galdor still retained the old prejudices. _The nerve of the elf to suggest his lord’s grandson Elrond hosted parties of Dwarves!_ “I would have you know my guests include Glorfindel of Gondolin and other lords.”

“Ah, Glorfindel. One could never quite understand his obsession with horses and riding. And I have never seen an ellon so vain about his hair…” the elf looked dolefully over the top of his ledgers. “And that time he visited the Havens, his training sessions with his students were so boisterous, Lord Cirdan thought we were under attack.”  

Galdor spluttered, trying to come up with a reply.

“Galdor! There you are. Your wife has been searching for you! Called at my place thinking we were catching up on that chess game,” Lord Cirdan stepped into the inn wafting salt air and sunshine.

 _Wife?_ Galdor of the Tree froze, then blanched. _Since when did he have a wife?_ He had never wedded, in Aman or Arda. He had never courted an elleth in Ages, not since the elleth he had a boyish infatuation with turned him down in favour of another. _And chess!_ Galdor hated chess. He never could understand the moves and rules. Even young Maeglin had beaten him at the game despite being a novice. Yet Cirdan was not one to jest about such matters. Oblivious to the distress he had caused, the ancient shipwright continued.

“Galdor, mellon nin, you do realise that we need to get a present for your son’s begetting day soon. Aearion has been begging his naneth to be allowed to sail over to Alqualonde. May I suggest a family outing as a present for your ion? My new boat is ready and we just took her out for her sea-trials. She sails like a charm.”

Galdor stuttered. _A son? He had neither wife nor child! What was Cirdan playing at?_ Had those days spent out under the sun finally fried the old elf’s brains? The dark eyes of the ellon behind the counter darted quickly from blustery Cirdan to the stricken elf-lord. A grin danced on his lips.

“Lord Cirdan, I thank you for your offer. It would be a great honour for my family to sail with you to Alqualonde for a day trip as a begetting day present for my ion. In addition, may I humbly offer my Aearion to be apprenticed to your house, that he may learn the skills of shipbuilding from a master,” Galdor of the Havens broke into a wide grin as his former master and current friend approached him. The ellyn embraced each other over the counter in the manner of old friends.

“Ah, who is this we have here?” Cirdan pulled away from his friend with a laugh and took a good look at the customer Galdor had been dealing with. “Lord Galdor of the Tree? Well met, my friend! How do you find the _White Gull?_ My friend Galdor here has put in a good bit of work into this inn, which we both have investments in.”

The blond elf was chuckling into his hand. His dour manner had evaporated. “Forgive him, my lord. Galdor here does have an odd sense of humour. Don’t take his words to heart, although he often speaks the truth.” Cirdan cuffed Galdor about the ear lightly as if dealing with a wayward child.

Galdor of the Tree broke into a smile. “I was just checking the preparations for a banquet I would be hosting in honour of the lords of Gondolin… Is there any truth to the tale of you mistaking Glorfindel’s lessons for an orc attack?”

Cirdan made a face. “That’s ancient history… You must understand, Glorfindel had his entire troop practicing both their swords and their battle cries at the top of their voices in the middle of the night…”

“This way, my lords…” Galdor of the Havens ushered both elf-lords into a private parlour. “I’ll have Mirrel bring you some wine and sweetmeats…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A refresher on the Elf-Lords of the 12 Houses of Gondolin (courtesy of Tolkien Gateway)  
> Turgon - House of the King (naturally)  
> Egalmoth –House of the Heavenly Arch (survived the Fall of Gondolin but died in the Third Kinslaying at Sirion)  
> Galdor – House of the Tree (one of the few lords to survive the Fall of Gondolin, and the Third Kinslaying)  
> Glorfindel – House of the Golden Flower (returns to Middle Earth after his first death in Gondolin to serve Elrond)  
> Ecthelion – House of the Fountain (also said to be a great musician and singer)  
> Duilin – House of the Swallow  
> Salgant – House of the Harp (threw his lot in with Maeglin and was killed in Gondolin)  
> Maeglin – House of the Mole (the one who betrayed Gondolin)  
> Penlod – House of the Pillar and House of the Tower of Snow (yes, he is lord of 2 Houses)  
> Rog – House of the Stricken Anvil  
> Tuor - House of the White Wing (strictly not born elf. Survived Fall of Gondolin to sail west and be granted immortality by the Valar)


	3. Legolas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who ordered those bows and quivers? Definitely not Laiqalasse, but Lord Galdor is not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legolas of Gondolin took the Quenya name Laiqalasse on settling on Tol Eressea.

The sun was bright and the weather fair, as was typical of Tol Eressea's climate. Under the shade of an elm, Laiqalasse scowled at the dozen beautifully crafted bows with matching quivers. At another time, he might have admired the fine craftsmanship of the bows, all beautifully carved. The leather quivers were embossed with a design of leaves of oak and ivy with tiny gemstone acorns as accents. The problem was that he did not order those items which had been delivered to Lord Galdor’s house after the morning meal.

Lord Galdor was furious when confronted with the bill and promptly summoned his seneschal to his study where Laiqalasse was subjected to the worst tongue-lashing this side of the island. There had always been a longstanding rivalry of sling versus bow between the House of the Tree and the House of the Swallow dating from the First Age. A bill of fifty gold pieces for archery equipment was enough to sour his lordship’s day and see Laiqalasse on the streets of Avallone both out of work and home.

Laiqalasse squinted at the crabbed handwriting on the order from _Master Orphilin’s Artisan Archery Supplies_. Part of the ink had smudged. Master Orphilin, the insufferably stubborn elf, had insisted that no mistake was made and would Master Legolas kindly pay for his custom-made bows in full? _No refunds given._

 _Legolas, House of G-_ A smudge obliterated the greater part of the address, which ended with _Trees_. It was no wonder the delivery had wound up at Lord Galdor’s. Many of the older Sindar still referred to Laiqalasse by his Sindarin name despite the fact that he had officially adopted the Quenya name Laiqalasse upon disembarking in the Blessed Realm. There was too much baggage attached to his Sindarin name which he would rather leave behind on the Hither Shores. He had no idea who in Avallone could have placed the order.

There was no way he could sell the bows and quivers in the marketplace. The Silvan elves on the island made their own bows and arrows. The Sindar and Noldor did not use bows as the large game they favoured hunting was lacking on Tol Eressea.

The former seneschal considered his options as he carted his meagre belongings and those confounded bows through the streets. He needed to eat and find a place to stay. Perhaps he could use the remaining coins in his purse to rent a bed and have a warm meal before seeking new employment.

* * *

 

 _The Mariners’ Cove_ was a popular rest stop for Teleri sailors travelling from Alqualonde, New Sirion and the half dozen coastal ports on mainland Aman. The beds were said to be clean and affordable and the food tasty. Perhaps he could sell the bows and quivers to the mainlanders.

Laiqalasse sat down and called for a bowl of piping hot clam chowder. His keen ears and eyes scanned the crowd and conversations for anything of interest. The bows and quivers he brought with him instead of leaving them outside as they seemed too fine to leave out unattended. Thievery was rare in Aman but it would not do to tempt any passing elf.

“Master Legolas, alone today? I’d recommend the spicy tomatoes. How’s Master Gimli's tummy today? The poor lamb...” a jolly waitress called out as she swung past with a tray full of foaming ales.

“Who?” Laiqalasse frowned. He did not know any Gimli. Also, he had not had occasion to frequent the establishment to be on such good terms with the staff.

“We’re sorry our five-bean chilli did not agree with him,” an ellon called out. “I guess Dwarves don’t take well to spicy foods. If he still needs a physician…”

 _Dwarves?_ _On the Undying Shores?_ Laiqalasse’s mind whirled in confusion. _Wait,_ he did recall a tale he heard of a dwarf being granted leave to enter and dwell in Aman for his part in the Ring War. Since settling in Tol Eressea, he no longer kept track of goings-on in Middle Earth. He had dismissed it as a mere rumour but…

“Chin up, laddie. It ain’t all bad.”

“Gimli, it is a disaster!  Ai! Gildor swore the store did not send it to his house, the store swore they sent it out and it has been paid for by me…The gifts for my uncles and cousins…”

“Legolas, ye only lost ten gold pieces in the down payment. Sure ye did not give them the wrong address? Pardon me but a good many streets here are named for trees…”

“House of Gildor, Street of the Green Trees. That was what I…”  

“Ho, laddie, ye never told me you’re a twin!”

Laiqalasse looked up and gasped at the sight before him. A blond elf, his double, was strolling into the taproom with a dwarf. The waitress gasped and dropped her tray. Laiqalasse and Prince Legolas stared at each other as a hush fell over the taproom.   

Laiqalasse was older but apart from a slight weariness in his eyes, he was youthful in his looks. Both ellyn had their hair tied in similar casual braids and wore green tunics of similar cut. _Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, of course, the elven member of the Fellowship…_

“Your Highness…” Laiqalasse started to bow but Legolas stopped him.

“Please, simply Legolas is enough… This is my friend Gimli. I do not believe we have been introduced yet.”

“Laiqalasse of the House of Tree…” the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He shouldn’t go by that name now that he had been fired from his post.

“Legolas? That Legolas of Gondolin? The same brave scout who led the survivors to safety?” Legolas exclaimed.

“Er, yes…” Laiqalasse fidgeted. More of the customers were looking their way now, with looks of awe and admiration.

“Nimorel, a tankard each for my friends!” Legolas called out to the waitress. “I’d love to chat but I have some missing bows to find…”

“Ahem, I believe I have figured out what happened to those bows and quivers…” Laiqalasse lifted the canvas covering the bows and quivers. Legolas’ face lit up with a smile.

“My bows! How did… W-where…” the woodland prince stuttered.

“Easy, laddie. Methinks our new friend here can explain,” Gimli chuckled. Legolas need not fret about not making a good impression with his gifts when they visit his cousins.

The waitress arrived with their ale and Laiqalasse lifted his tankard.

“It’s a long tale but one we can share over a tankard or two,” Legolas of Gondolin laughed. “Perhaps you could also help put in a good word with my master when all’s done…” he took a sip from his tankard before launching into an account of his morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of simply sharing the same name (in Sindarin), I let both Legolases have similar looks for added confusion. 
> 
> Being the honourable elf he is, Legolas will reimburse Laiqalasse for his fifty gold pieces and speak to Lord Galdor about reinstating Laiqalasse in his household. Then everyone will have a laugh over the mix-up.


End file.
